Wizard Man
by Kid Dynamite 090
Summary: A re-do of a songfic following Billy Joel's 'Piano Man'. Harry meets some familiar faces in a pub all dealing with similar troubles like he is, but with different lives and stories.


This story has no timeline. In fact, how I think of it;  
Harry and the others defeated Voldemort, but now Harry and a few of the others feel empty because there is still strife and problems in their world.  
For the sake of the story; Remus, Cedric, Snape are alive.  
Based on Billy Joel's _Piano Man_

I tried to fit characters with the people in the song, hence why theres minor Hr/D, and I hate that pair lol  
Enjoy~

* * *

He sky was grey and rain had showered over the English earth for quite a time now. A week; maybe two? The times were dim, even the muggles knew something was amiss; no, even the muggles knew something was dark.

Mr. Potter was 19 years old. He found himself drawn to one location as he ended his teenage years.  
The pub was small; hidden well in an area less traveled. Well; less traveled to muggles. It was like a Leaky Cauldron for the offset witch or wizard who just didn't want to be found.

It was Saturday, about 9 o' clock when Harry entered the place. It was shabby, but a bit nicer than the Cauldron. He went to his usual bar stood, not only because he had an affinity for it, both because nearby stood a lovely charmed piano and that he could see a hunched over familiar friend at the bar this particular time. The piano was playing a slow, sad tune and matched perfectly the moods of the outside and inside. The regulars were arriving now.

Harry sat down at the bar. After a few moments of silence, he said simply, "Hello, Professor."  
The old man, with a face that was aged well past his own, gave a small, fragile smile.  
"I'm no longer a professor, Harry. Please, Remus."  
"Sorry, but of a habit," Harry said, trying to return the smile.  
And yet, it was so easily seen that both men were faking.

Harry looked over and small a shot glass in the mans' hand. He of course inquired.  
"This? Ah, well it's a- muggle drink. Something with a liquor called gin I believe."  
Remus took a sip, not a chug like any other man.

The piano continued to play handsomely.  
"Harry?"  
"Yes, Remus?"  
"Can you pick a melody for the piano? A memory, in fact. There is one that I used to love. It was rather sad but sweet and I new it complete when I wore a younger mans robes."

_La La La, Di Da Da  
La La, Di Da Da Da Dum_

Harry stayed silent. It was completely possible to change the song, but no one ever did. The song it played was a haunting reminder of why they were there. The 19 year old hummed a bit in tune. He did so, until the bartended walked to stand behind the bar in front of Harry.

"No, Harry? No song? I'm sure you can pick a tune. I'm sure everyone here would be happy with a melody to make us feel… alright."  
"I'm afraid I wouldn't know, Sir," Harry said lowly and hunched much like Remus on the bar, just in time to see someone.  
Another familiar person. This time, in the form of a fellow student and classmate.  
Neville Longbottom had taken up bartending there to save up some money and keep himself useful.  
Harry liked Neville working there. He was a friend, and Harry was so lucky as to get his drinks free. In fact, since school, Neville had truly gained character. Maybe it was that girl he was dating. But anyone could tell you Neville was defiantly a bit funnier and quick with his job and a light if need be.

Harry could see Neville was pretty content at work; he smiled and seemed to like the people. But something about now, Harry set his posture right and looked at Neville who poured some firewhisky.

"How you feeling, Neville?" Harry asked.  
"I don't know if I can do it forever," Neville said.  
The smile ran from his face.

"Harry, this is killing me some. I'm sure I could make my grandma proud… if I did something. But there's nothing. Maybe if I just had the chance to leave this place…"

He was almost saying it dreamily. Harry knew he always wanted to please his grandmother, it was a shame. The piano was still playing on its own.

_La La La, Di Da Da  
La La, Di Da Da Da Dum_

Harry just turned himself on the stool and looked at the rest of the room. At a table a few feet away, more people Harry had history with, and for them to be together, they must have been a bit drunk.

Severus Snape was sitting at a table holding a glass in his hand. Snape had never married; partially due because he simply didn't have the time. Would he have made time if she was there? More than likely. But without a woman, Snape just simple made it so he had no such time for one.

Sitting with him at the small table while a certain golden boy, Cedric Diggory, sat with him. He had joined an elite form of wizards that dealt with the protection of high Ministry officials such as the minister himself. Some people didn't last too long, but everyone said Cedric would be in the service for life.

The piano continued, speeding up a bit for the moment.  
Moving across the floor was Hermione Granger. Her first job as a waitress while she worked her way up in the Ministry and wizarding law. She was carrying a trey with 2 drinks to the bar, the very end of the bar seats away from Harry himself. A blonde man, A Draco Malfoy, quickly took the drink and downed it quick, slurring for Hermione to join him. He was _very_ drunk. It was obvious he began his drink a while ago and was stoned, really. But then again, that's what people did there. And quite frankly, Hermione was lonely and sharing loneliness was better than drinking alone.

The piano had a charming affect now, with the higher keys in a solo of themselves.  
"C'mon, Harry, you can get a tune," Neville said suddenly.

Harry shook his head.

"Well why not?" Hermione asked a bit pitifully.  
"Don't know any. Sorry."  
"I'm sure the great Mr. Potter can drum up a tune. Make our day! Like Lupin said, we're all in the mood and I'm sure you can make us alright," Snape said with a lingering bitterness.

The piano died a bit, but was defiantly preparing to have a musical climax at some point.

There were other people in the bar, a few more than usual. Usually the magic-folk were off elsewhere on a Saturday, even on one like this. Harry considered leaving, until he saw the managers of the place.  
Fred and George had done well, and it was a bit of a surprise they pick up such a dreary place. But then again, everyone needs a place to just frown and be among people who won't need to know why.

They two were comical, but knew that this was not a comedy club. They were sullen, but their aura was as it always way.  
The greeted Harry calmly and smiled, mischief forever written in their expressions. The two liked when Harry dropped bye, not only because he was a dear friend, but because the two were not stupid. They knew that even if it wasn't apparent, the people liked seeing Harry. Harry was a symbol of sorts. One of struggle and perseverance. And honestly, seeing him and knowing how his purpose and what he could do, it was comforting to just image a different way and forget about real life for a while.

The piano began to sound more carnivious, and the place was slowly starting to smell more like liquor. The other people, known or unknown to Harry, sat some at the bar, some at tables. Some greeted him with slurred speech and others were completey sober and stern. A few would offer to buy Harry some drinks but a few; the very few who got to Harry were the ones who asked, "Man, what are you doing here!?"

La La La, Di Da Da  
La La, Di Da Da Da Dum

True, Harry didn't have much of an idea on his life. In and out of the pub; waiting for what he was supposed to do. Truly, he was confused and didn't know what to do or why he was anywhere most of the time.  
A few patrons began to hum and some even began a banter of song, off key of course.

"Put on a song, Harry!" Remus exclaimed next to him, previously quiet, "In fact, sing us a song tonight!"  
"We're in a mood Harry!" Hermione cried.  
The room stared at Harry, who knew it wasn't the song that put them in a mood. With being Harry Potter came a responsibility to do things, things that in tern make not just the people, but in fact the lands alright.  
The piano was louder and more pronounced as the song ended. Nothing else began afterwards.  
Harry stayed on his stool, hoping it would play again. He knew the answer.  
The patrons stared at him for a bit, before going back to their drinks and low conversations.

Harry felt so empty. If this tavern was so dark, what did life have in store? The days had past since the darkest figure had fallen, but there was such an overcast on everyone close to the battle. Harry finished the drink he had been given when he arrived. He was set to leave, but took a look around. He saw all the people, downtrodden, seeing horrible things in the face of creating happiness and peace. But where did it lead them? Into a cheap pub and depression. Enemies by house having a drunken chat, enemies by blood at the bar? Harry wanted to leave. Really, he did. He wanted to take Neville's advice and try to leave. But where would that lead him? It would just rain there too.  
Rather than leave, Harry slowly walked to the piano. It was old, dusty, but nevertheless was ready to play. It wasn't long before the patrons noticed Harry there, and once more, stared. Harry placed a hand on the top of the piano and tapped a few random keys, not knowing how to play.  
It wasn't a melody, or even a nice tune, but the people smiled. Even a few taps of hope awoken the people from a depressive sleep.  
"Thank you, Harry," Remus said quietly.  
Harry could see smiled and feel gratitude.

Perhaps Harry's time of creating calm wasn't over. Maybe, just maybe it wasn't the song or melody that was important, but rather that someone was willing to start one? Someone was willing to start something to make everyone just feel good, and yes, forget about the outside and just disappear for a time.

It was still raining, but Harry still felt it was now time to leave. As he approached the door, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Remus had gotten up and put a hand on Harry.  
"You're no piano man, Harry," he said with a solid expression, which melted into a soft, yet genuine smile, "But you defiantly have got us feeling alright."


End file.
